


What Is In Part Disappears

by blithers



Category: New Girl
Genre: F/F, Friends to Lovers, Pact To Get Married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-16 12:15:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2269329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blithers/pseuds/blithers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’re twenty one and drunk when they make the pact.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Is In Part Disappears

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Haywire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haywire/gifts).



> Title is from Corinthians 13:9-10, "For we know in part, and we prophesy in part, but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears."
> 
> Spoilers through season one, episode 13 "Valentine's Day".
> 
> Thank you to innie for help brainstorming, and htbthomas for beta reading. I hope you enjoy this, Haywire!

They’re twenty one and drunk when they make the pact.

“Wine,” Cece says, and Jess passes the bottle to her. Cece wraps her fingers around the stem and tips it back, then wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. She’d been dumped earlier that day, dumped by stupid Trevor and his stupid gauge earrings with holes the size of a nickels, dumped by a boy who’d flunked out of college before he’d even declared a major. Dumped on _Valentine’s Day_.

Jess slumps back next to Cece, their backs against the headboard of Jess’s twin size bed, feet tangled up together underneath the bumpy pastel quilt that Jess’s grandma had made when she was born. Jess giggles, loose and sort of cheerfully drunk, her eyes squished up into little triangles of happiness behind her thick glasses.

“What?” Cece asks, and hands the bottle back to Jess.

“I was just thinking,” Jess says. “I mean, I was thinking that, uh, you know, you and me?” Jess gestures back and forth between the two of them, the motion loose and clumsy. “We should have a, a thing. You know. A… pact. Because you’re too good for Trevor and you’re too good for Briton and that other one with the crazy biceps. You’re too good for all of them, Cece. Even tree-trunk bicep dude. _Even_ him.”

Cece latches onto what she’s pretty sure is the most important part of what Jess had just said. “A pact?”

Jess nods her head, up and down, up and down. “A pact. You know, a Best Friend’s Wedding thing. Because,” Jess throws up arm around Cece and pulls her in tight, “you’re my best friend. My best _best_ friend. My best best best _best_ friend.”

Cece leans her head against Jess’s shoulder, tucks her forehead into the dip of her friend’s shoulder. “I know.”

“Ten years,” Jess says, fuzzily. “In ten years, if we haven’t found anybody else, we should get married. Adopt a cat and wear those sweet old lady glasses together and get married and live happily ever after.”

Jess starts to say something else, but it’s all lost in the rush inside of Cece’s head and heart, so Cece closes her eyes instead and leans in close and simply says, “Yeah. Okay. Let’s do that.”

—

_Ten Years Later  
Valentine’s Day_

—

Jess kicks off her heels, feels the ache in her calves and the arch of her foot. She rotates her ankles, loosens them one and then the other, clockwise, counter-clockwise, shimmies her hips in her dress to smooth out the fabric around her hips. Thinks about what Schmidt said.

_Don’t overthink it._

Jess decides that a night sleeping in her own bed is the best one night stand she can think of.

Cece’s already in bed when Jess opens the door to her bedroom, huddled under the blanket Jess had crocheted when she’d first moved in with Spencer, garishly colored acrylic yarn and a pattern like interwoven octogons. Jess hadn’t expected her to be here - Cece had disappeared into the night earlier after Kyle, who’d run off screaming something into the night about brown people. Jess sets the megabox of condoms down on the night stand and stretches her legs out next to Cece. It feels good, the two of them here, together. Comfortable.

Cece doesn’t lift her head up. “So the boy toy was a bust, huh.”

“So cute,” Jess confirms, “and so dumb. Also hung up on his ex. Also, dumb like a bag of bricks.”

“Aren’t they all,” Cece mumbles into Jess’s pillow.

“Where’s Kyle?”

“Being racist in a park.”

“Good old Kyle.”

Cece looks up at her then, her face red and creased-up looking from Jess’s pillow, mascara smudged like a bruise underneath her eyes. She looks serious and thoughtful, the way Cece always does before she’s either about to say something either super wise or completely crazy.

“Heeeeey,” Cece says.

“Hey,” Jess says.

“Do you remember how we made that pact? When what’s-his-name dumped me on Valentine’s Day, back in college?”

Jess slouches down further on the bed and has to turn her head to look at Cece. “Trevor.”

“Right. Trevor. And we said - well, you said that if we weren’t married in ten years, we would marry each other?”

Jess hesitates, then nods. She thinks about that sometime, how drunk she’s been, and how the moment had felt so blindingly obvious in her alcohol-addled brain. How the idea of her and Cece getting married had seemed clear and simple, like looking down forty feet into the depths of one of those glacier-fed lakes up in the mountains, so close it was like you could reach out and touch the bottom.

“That was ten years ago,” Cece continues, her face solemn and serious. “Ten years ago today.”

“Oh,” says Jess finally, and then, “ _oh_.”

—

It’s crazy. Absolutely nuts. Her! And Cece! 100% wackadoodle.

Except here’s the thing. The more Jess thinks about it, the more it starts to make the weirdest kind of sense. Cece’s her best friend. Jess can’t imagine life without her. Isn’t that what people mean when they say for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer? Cece’s the only person who’s ever been a constant in her life, the only one who’s always been there for her, no matter what.

As for the sex stuff - well. It wasn’t like she’d really had that great of a sex life with Spencer after the first couple months anyway. If Spencer had taught her anything, it was that sex wasn’t that important in the grand scheme of things. If Spencer had really been a good friend to her, he would never have cheated on her. He would never have broken her heart.

Jess thinks that sounds like a pretty good deal, all things considered.

—

“You,” Sadie says, like she’s trying not to laugh. “You and _Cece_.”

“What, like I couldn’t be gay?” Jess says, and pushes her glasses up her nose again with a sharp poke. “I could totally be gay. Or whatever. I love rainbows, dude. I live and breath glitter on a daily basis. I feel like this one is in my wheelhouse.”

“You know that isn’t what being gay is, right? You have to be into other people’s lady parts. The whole kit,” Sadie gestures, a sort of swirling motion, “and kaboodle.”

Whenever Jess thinks about part of marrying Cece she quickly skitters off that line of thought. She doesn’t know how to explain to other people that she just doesn’t think it’s that important. “Who says I’m not?” she says, trying hard not to sound defensive.

“I just want you to think about why you’re doing this. It’s a big change for you, that’s all.”

“You and Melissa are happy,” Jess points out, and licks the pad of her finger to slide it along the thin rim of her wine glass.

“Melissa and I are in love,” Sadie corrects gently.

“I love Cece,” Jess says. “I can’t imagine life without her.”

Sadie takes a sip of her own wine. "Well, maybe that’s all there is to it, then.”

—

“So,” Jess says, after Cece opens the door, “are we doing this thing or are we _doin’_ this thing?”

—

“You two,” Schmidt says, glancing back and forth between Jess and Cece. “You two are getting _married_.”

Jess nods, and Schmidt crosses his arms, all judge-y.

“I could sue you for breach of contract, you know. I distinctly remember a certain someone not checking the I Am A Lesbian box on their rental contract, _Jessica_.”

“First off, it is so weird that that is a thing on our rental agreement.”

“We all filled out the same form.”

“Really.”

“I checked the box,” Nick says, sounding kind of angry that he has to explain that he’s been cloaking his lady-boner in the body of a scruffy thirty-something year old man who should really be showering on a more frequent basis.

“We _all_ checked the box,” Schmidt agrees, then points a finger accusingly at Jess. “Except for this one.”

Cece has an amused look on her face. “I didn’t check the box.”

“You didn’t fill out the rental agreement. I don’t see why that is relevant.”

“So you’re really getting married?” Winston asks.

Jess nods. Cece moves to stand beside Jess and takes her hand, so they’re facing the guys together. Cece’s hand is dry and warm, long fingers wrapped around Jess’s own, and it’s like every other time they’ve held hands in their life, but also… not.

“Yeah,” Jess says, and the words feel huge, like they’re filling up the entire loft. “We are.”

Schmidt purses his lips, looking the two of them over. “So does that mean you two have…” He fist bumps himself, blows it up, interlocks his fingers together, and slaps the fleshy part of his palms meatily together a couple times. Nick raises an eyebrow, and Jess feels a thump of giddy nervousness.

“None of your beeswax,” Jess says primly.

“Is Cece moving into the loft?” Winston asks.

“Yeah. Well, if it’s cool with you guys. I already talked to Remy. He was surprisingly open and enthusiastic about the possibility of friendship and love between two lifelong friends.”

“I”ll bet he was,” Nick mutters darkly.

“Well, I’ll handle the pre-party,” Schmidt says. “If my roommate is going to get lady-married to her hot model best friend, you best believe this is going to happen in the most baller way possible. Engagement parties are a Schmidt joint, son. Best recognize.”

—

Cece sits on the floor in Jess’s room, leafing through a stack of wedding magazines, discarding most of them out of hand. She’s in a tank top and a pair of Jess’s old cotton shorts from high school, from before Jess lost the weight, with JV MARCHING BAND printed in block letters across the back. The elastic band of the shorts is rolled twice around Cece’s waist to keep them up.

And Jess is supposed to be addressing save the date postcards, but she keeps finding herself watching Cece instead. The way Cece taps her foot when she’s distracted, the way her hair gleams in the sun through the windows whenever she twists around to look at something. The way Cece’s legs look, long and a little gangly.

“You’re staring at me,” Cece says.

“Do you want to make out or something?” Jess finds herself asking, and it’s like she hears the words at the same time that they’re coming out of her mouth, because, uh, _what_?!

Cece just looks up for a moment. “Is this because of what Schmidt asked?”

“Not exactly?”

“You know you shouldn’t listen to that guy.”

“Yeah, but… I mean, if we’re going to actually do this, we should at least, you know, _kiss_. Before…” Jess slams the V of her fingers together awkwardly a few times, and wiggles her thumbs around a bit.

“We don’t have to sleep together if we don’t want to,” Cece says mildly. “It’s our relationship. We can do whatever we want.”

“I know.”

“Then what’s the big deal?”

Jess frowns. “Don’t you want to?”

“Not because of Schmidt.”

Jess thinks about that for a second.

“So you do… want to.”

Cece puts the magazine she’s looking at down beside her and walks over to where Jess is sitting, postcards stacked on the desk in front of her and both of their address books flipped open. Cece kneels in front of Jess, puts a hand on her knee. Their eyes are almost level like this. Jess realizes that she’s holding her breath.

“Yeah,” Cece says softly. “I do.”

The two words send a shiver up Jess’s spine, and this whole crazy plan starts to seem real for the first time, and she thinks, _I’m going to marry my best friend_.

And then Cece kisses her, very gently, pressing her closed lips up against Jess’s.

They’ve kissed before, back in middle school, as part of an experiment to figure out what you were supposed to do with your tongue while french kissing, which was something the cool kids did that neither of them quite got yet. But Cece was about a foot shorter the first time they did this, and Jess used to wear glasses that got in the way, bumping annoyingly up against Cece’s nose.

Cece’s lipstick sticks against Jess’s lips, a waxy, greasy dryness. It’s different to be kissing somebody wearing lipstick, the flat, familiar chemical taste smearing on Jess’s tongue as she opens up her mouth for the first time.

They kiss slowly, sweetly. Jess doesn’t know what to do with her hands, and is kind of nervous that if she tries to put them on Cece’s shoulder or against a hip she might misjudge and hit boob instead. So Jess wraps her fingers around the edge of the seat of the rolling chair, feeling the ragged, stapled edge of the fabric underneath her fingertips. Cece’s mouth is wet and warm.

When Cece pulls back finally her cheeks are flushed and she’s breathing faster. Jess clears her throat and tries not to stare.

“So that was nice,” Cece says finally, the understatement of the century, and Jess starts to laugh.

—

“Here’s what I’m thinking as a theme for your engagement party,” Schmidt says. “Picture this with me.” He waves a hand in front of him, sketching a glorious future, a theme to end all themes. “ _Boobs_.”

“Boobs,” Jess repeats flatly.

Schmidt nods. “Exactly. _Boobs_. Four nipples, two bras, one future.”

“No,” Jess says. “Absolutely not, Schmidt.”

—

They end up overruling Schmidt through sheer force of numbers and have the engagement party at the bar, sans theme, just the guys from the loft and a couple of Cece’s model friends who do shots in the back with Jess’s awestruck co-workers while Sadie and Melissa hold down the married portion of the evening with panache. Schmidt sulks for a while in the corner about his rejected party planning role until Cece sweet talks him out by promising to shell out the quarters to play Toxic on the jukebox.

“Toxic is the thinking man’s Britney,” Schmidt says, brightening up, and Nick yells _douchebag jar_ from halfway across the room.

Jess and Cece stumble home together after the party breaks up, the two of them with arms looped around each other like they’ve done a million times before. Except Jess’s blood is buzzing along in her veins, a heady mixture of alcohol and nerves, the memory of how it had felt to kiss Cece humming along in the back of her brain. Cece is wearing a short black skirt and a bronze colored tank top she’d been able to take home after a high-end clothing shoot last year. 

Their hips keep bumping into each other, and then, somehow, they turn the corner of the block and then Jess is kissing Cece (or Cece started kissing her first?). And it feels _right_ , it feels so _good_. Jess almost doesn’t know how to handle it.

She takes a step in closer to Cece, pressing their bodies together, and it’s still a shock when Cece’s breasts end up smushed up against her own, but also, it’s kind of the hottest thing that Jess can imagine right now. 

Cece slides a hand down over Jess’s hip and sort of pants into her mouth.

“Get a room!” somebody shouts on the other side of the street, and Jess pulls back from Cece reluctantly, smiling, a little embarrassed maybe. 

Cece doesn’t say anything, just grabs Jess’s hand and starts to pull her home in the direction of the loft.

—

They get married on a Sunday morning in the loft, Jess’s parents in the front row and Cece’s mom name-dropping nice young men she wants to introduce Cece to the entire time. Winston is the ring bearer and Nick officiates the ceremony until he rebels, goes off book, and tears up the entire stack of Jess’s neatly written ceremony notecards. Schmidt ends up bear-tackling Nick to the ground somewhere in the middle of Nick’s retelling of Joe Versus the Volcano as a parable of true love. 

(“It’s not that I don’t love Tom Hanks,” Schmidt says afterwards. “The man is a American treasure. But I am _not_ down with spoilers, bro.”)

They kiss after Winston, Schmidt, and Nick all announce the “you can kiss the bride” line in unison, which is Stepford-wives levels of creepy, but Jess decides that it doesn’t really matter, not when she’s wearing a white wedding dress that flounces around her knees with pale pink netting, kissing her best friend, sunlight coming in through the windows, her family around her and her future in front of her.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this story and would like to share it, please consider reblogging [this post](http://blithers.tumblr.com/post/97504898233/what-is-in-part-disappears-by-blithers) on tumblr!


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